


Push it down

by AndrewFloydWebber (emtbomb)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emtbomb/pseuds/AndrewFloydWebber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>14 yo Sam and 17yo Dean are about to meet John after a year of living with a Foster family. John had been on the mend from a hunt-went-bad and then needed to track down his boys. Sam was reluctant to leave, having finally been at a school for a full year. Dean... well Dean has some new scars, visible and otherwise. Can John and Sam see the new pain he's been carrying? And what exactly happened to Sammy's older brother this past year?</p><p>This is a story about extreme abuse of teenager and a family trying to re-find its footing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and it isn't beta'd. I am a writer, but this was written purely for the joy of it so I didn't let myself get bogged down by grammar as I usually do. So, sorry for that.

Dean opens the door first. He always opens the door first if he can help it, in case there’s anything waiting for them inside. Sam barrels in past him, a ball of pent up excitement and frustration that rivals the typical brooding of a 14-year-old hormonal boy. He doesn’t even notice he’s just smacked his brothers’ busted shoulder into the frame. 

“This bed’s mine,” Sam shouts, flopping down, immediately whipping out his book that was assigned to him for summer reading at his last school. Hopefully it’s still relevant for the new one, they don’t have enough information on where they’re going to get the new list in advance.

“Not now, nerd boy. Pack it back up and go to sleep, dad will be meeting us in the morning and he’ll probably want to get on the road right away,” Dean says as he gingerly lies down on the bed closest to the motel room door, the one he would have chosen anyway. Sam can fight –maybe even better than Dean could at that age- but if something breaks in, Dean wants first swing. 

Sam grumbles and rolls his eyes in that cliché way you only see on bad family sitcoms. He’s gearing up for another full on “we shouldn’t have left” rant when he catches sight of a deep bruise on his brother’s ribs. Not to mention, he can see Dean’s ribs enough to count them. 

“Dean-“

“What, Sammy, what?? I heard you in the car for the past three hours. I can’t take anymore! Just go to sleep” Dean holds his head in his hands, the weight of the past year enough to sink him through the floorboards. 

Any ounce of concern Sam had is gone in a huff. How did he become the bad guy? It’s John who’s been uprooting them their whole lives. Although ‘uprooting’ implies you’ve been somewhere long enough to put down roots in the first place. Well dammit, this time Sam Winchester had put down roots.

“Whatever, Dean. Never mind. Just don’t forget I TOLD you I’d stay behind. Rick and Mary were good people and I’m sure they’re freaking out that we’re gone. We shouldn’t have left like that. I’m sorry, but they’re the only real parents I’ve ever had.” He turned off the light, whipped the blanket over himself, and squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn’t let Dean see him cry. “Better than John,” he forced out. 

It was like a stab to Dean’s chest. Life on the road was tough, but it wasn’t all bad. And life in that house, with its white picket fence disguising the horrors within, that was pure hell. And that one of those monsters shared a name with his mom was almost more than Dean could handle. No. He would give his left nut before either of them could be alone with Sammy. But he wasn't about to have this conversation. He shut his eyes but didn’t sleep. He didn’t feel safe until he heard the rumble of John’s pickup.


	2. Chapter 2

John enters the motel room to a splash of water on his face. He opens his eyes to a guilty looking Dean who also seems a bit… smaller? Its probably just odd seeing people you think you know so well after an entire year has gone by.

“Good boy.” He says and Dean smiles that toothy grin John's missed so much and finally comes in for a hug. There’s no doubt about it. The boy’s skinnier than a marshmallow twig, even layered up the way he is. 

“Dammit boy this year wasn’t a vacation. I need you at my six now and you’re nowhere near ready for a fight.” He sees Dean’s face fall and immediately regrets his harsh tone. Why can’t he for two seconds just be happy to be with his boy? Oh that’s right, they’re at war with monsters and dark things with yellow eyes and Dean needs to be ready. God, that always sounds ridiculous in his head. 

“I didn’t…. I’m sorry sir.” Dean says, ashamed. How can he protect Sammy against the big bad when he couldn’t protect himself against a couple of fucking mom and pop shop owners. “I guess civi life got to me…”

“I wasn’t planning on another boot-camp Dean. Now we’ll have to take a month up at Caleb’s cabin and get you boys into shape.” He notices Dean’s eyes light up a bit, changing to Mary’s in an instant. Maybe this will be good. It’ll give them some time to catch up and be a family again.

All of a sudden he’s being engulfed in a hug by an unfamiliar size. Damn, Sammy shot up and he feels like solid muscle, even if he’s a bit unfilled out and lanky. Odd, he’d suspected to find him in a similar state to Dean… and definitely not hugging him. 

“Hi Dad,” Sam says as he lets go. OK maybe he missed his father more than he admitted to Dean. It's been a year and they had no idea what sort of shape he's been in. “Dad. The werewolf out in Cincinnati?"

“Gone. Tracked that son of a bitch the second I got out of that damn hospital. Found it all the way in Tulsa” He smirked. They moved into the kitchen area and John took a look around and sighed. “This place is a shit-hole isn’t it? Sammy, how’d you feel about heading up to the cabin for a boot-camp?” He asked in that way that was more of a statement than an actual question. “Get your stuff we’ll leave in fifteen.”

He pats Sammy on the shoulder and makes his way to the bathroom. Sammy starts packing up his books and toothbrush and surveying the room for anything he might have forgotten, even though they never unpacked to begin with. 

Dean however was biting his tongue, fighting himself from screaming. Dad had energy to track and kill a rogue werewolf after months in the hospital but he didn’t swing by and get them?? He didn't even call? Dean’s been starved and beaten and… and… he shakes his head, grabs his duffle and books it to the impala.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a couple weeks up at the cabin and Ace is back. Yea, Dean’s got everything under control. The first week was rough – he couldn’t keep up with Sam on the obstacle course and spent a lot of time worshiping the porcelain God because he kept eating like a Sumo wrestler. But now his stomach has settled and he’s stopped getting those disgusted looks from Sam when he eats. 

Trainings has also been getting easier and Dean’s definitely put some muscle on. He feels like in a month or so he’ll be back to where he was a year ago. And if he stifles a flinch every time Dad pats him on the shoulder or reaches for something harder than a beer, it’s all good because no one else seems to notice.

Except Sam notices something. He sees how Dean is reacting to John and he can’t help but freak. It’s been a year since they’ve all been together and in that year he and Dean had finally learned the meaning of a stable home. He remembers Jacob from school, who exhibited the same “flinch when touched” phenomenon and he knows what it means. Abuse. 

Had John been hurting Dean all these years without Sam seeing it? Of course that’s it! It’s easy to cover up the bruises when you can just say you got them hunting down a chupacabra. Well, Sam is bigger now, and he’s not going to let his brother suffer in silence anymore. It’s with that thought in his head that he hears some banging from the study. 

\---

“You call that an exorcism? Dammit Dean, you could be reading out the phone book for all a demon would care. Stop stuttering, and just spit it out!” They’ve been at this all morning and the more he pushes the worse Dean seems to get.

John’s voice is raised and Dean’s vision is starting to blur thanks to the tears in his eyes. He can’t help it; he stumbles backwards and he and the chair hit the ground. He finds his way to a free corner and waits for the feeling of fists.

John freezes. What just happened? He wasn’t even really mad, he just had his Commander voice on, but Dean looks like he’s been punched in the gut. He makes his way to his son; whose hands are over his face in a pretty useless defense position, when all of a sudden he’s knocked off his feet.

After a few seconds, Dean remembers himself. He opens his eyes and sees Sammy. Sam --- with his forearm pressing into their Dad’s clavicle, yelling into his face.

“What have you done??” He yells at John, spit flying onto his fathers face, “Don’t you dare touch him again, you piece of shit! If I’d have known what was going on with you two, I never would have –” but Dean is pulling on his shoulder now telling him to calm down and he can’t. He’s furious. Without even thinking (dear God why couldn’t he think) He used his other arm to smack Dean away.

Remarkably, John's first thought is 'Sammy's strong,' as he witnesses the shit-show unfurling in front of him. Dean’s back hits the shelves, ancient texts falling over him as he struggles to protect himself. Then Deans, his super soldier Dean, is crying on his knees asking someone to stop – PLEASE stop – when Sammy finally rushes to tend to his brother, releasing his hold on John.

But Dean won’t let either of them near him. He’s flailing and yelling, “It’s over! It' supposed to be over! Please stop!” over and over again. Sam and John share bewildered looks for a few moments, neither Winchesters knowing what to do. Sam begs him with his eyes to put a stop to this. 

Dean feels two strong hands gripping his wrists. His first instinct is to fight and pull but he cant because suddenly he’s being hugged. Dad is whispering into his ear “it’s all right son, it’s all right. Calm down for me, Ace, calm down.” He stills, but his heart is pounding a mile a minute and when he finally braves opening his eyes, he’s met with the two people he cares most about staring at him like he’s grown three heads.

“I think we need to talk, boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that felt as chaotic as I was going for! 
> 
> Do we think Dean's gonna open up in the next chapter? We'll see :)


	4. Chapter 4

“What’s your problem, Man??” Sammy asks him, holding his bleeding nose in his hand. They were sparring and Dean had gone completely off book.

Honestly? Dean doesn’t know what his problem is. He’s irritable all the time and he can’t seem to stop lashing out. It’s been two weeks since the incident in the study and he was able to convince Sammy and Dad that his freak out was about their constant fighting and how it was ‘supposed to be over’ now that they were reunited. How he managed that when he was already blubbering like a little bitch before Sam stormed in he doesn’t know. But it was him selling it, so they bought it. 

And if that didn’t piss him off more than anything else… “I don’t know, Sammy boy. Maybe it’s your stupid face.” Real clever Dean. You told him. 

Sammy throws him a disgusted look and storms inside. Dean can’t even remember why he was frustrated to begin with. All he knows is that he’s cracking. It’s as if now that he’s not completely made up of fear and survival instincts, he has to finally feel again. And you know what? It sucks. 

\--  
Sam decides to go off and pick a fight with John. There’s no reason to sugar coat it; that is exactly what he’s doing. He knows John won’t let him join his new schools’ soccer team in the fall. He knows, but he wants a reason to yell at John. Take it out on the man responsible for their shitty existences.

“Hey kiddo!” John says with the same winning smile that gets Dean through life, “he got you good, didn’t he?” And of course dearest Dad approves of his face getting beat to shit. 

Sam takes a deep breath and shoots, “Iwannaplaysoccerthisyear!” John gives him a quizzical look that says ‘want to repeat that with actual words?’

“I want to play soccer. At school. This year. Sir.” Shockingly, John smiles at him. 

After a moment… “Ok,” Dad says.

“OK??”

“What, did you want me to say no?” Dad looks at him like he can see right through his thick hair and skull. Wanted…not exactly. Expected and would give him a reason to be so pissed off… yes. But this might be the best news he’s gotten in a month and he feels the anger escape him.

“Awesome. Thank you sir.”

“Yea, well you already have gym clothes and Cleats so…” The eldest Winchester trails off like he’s embarrassed. Sam looks at him and finally realizes that his father never wanted to say no to him. It’s always been about money and time and the damn demon. There’s a certain wave of relief and frustration that hits him and he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yea… Rick and Mary bought them for me.” 

“That so?”

“Yes sir. They spent those first summer months trying to pry my ‘extracurricular’ interests out of me. They thought I hated them because I wouldn’t share. I couldn’t say ‘monster hunting’ so I didn’t know what to tell them. Then I remembered wanting to play soccer in that town outside of Hartford a few years back. Thought this might be my shot to actually play. They told me I could go out for the team and then a week before school started, they appeared in my room…” 

The Winchester bookends shot the shit for a couple of hours. Sam, telling stories and letting his father in on everything that happened this past year, and John listening and sharing stories of the hot nurses in his ward. He thought he would be using this information as weapons, and he’s sure he probably will once John switches back into commander mode when they leave the sanctity of the cabin for a real town and actual hunts. So, for now, he’s happy to just sort of talk to his dad.

\--

Dean listens in and once again can’t stop tears from forming. What a little bitch he has become. "What? You little baby. You sad you didn’t get credit for working three months to pay for those fucking cleats?" 

Great, now he’s yelling at himself in his own head. He remembers that day. He was so fucking proud to help Sam finally do something normal, whatever the hell that means, when Sammy barrels past him to hug Mary. He thanked THEM profusely and when he went to hug Rick, the older man caught Dean’s eye and smirked. He fucking smirked!

And what was Dean gonna do? Yell "no Sammy, those are from me?" That would have made everything awkward and he couldn’t bear to hear Mary call him a liar. Because that’s what she would have done. Where Rick was all fists and leers, Mary had a talent for cutting Dean down with words. She’d make him feel small while masking it as “loving concern” around the dinner table. 

And the looks Sam would give him? Those piteous looks like she was right and now maybe Dean could finally be better socialized... Better in general. 

She wasn’t so sickly sweet when Sammy wasn’t around, though. Maybe if he’d have known when they’d made him drop out of school how much time they’d have, between the morning and when Sam came home from practice at 7pm, to strip him bare and cut him down to nothing, maybe he would’ve taken Sam and ran for the hills before Dad gave him the OK. 

Oh and wasn’t that the fucking cherry on top. He’d been working at the Jefferson’s stupid shop all summer when he asked Rick about his work hours once school had started up. Rick looked at him a moment and asked, “What’s a retard like you need with school anyhow? No. You’ll be working here full time.” 

When he’d tried to protest that he’d promised his Dad he wouldn’t drop out he got a backhand to the face. “You think we have the money to keep that bean stock of a brother of yours fed, clothed, and happy, boy? Pull you’re fucking weight. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or I swear you’d have nothing going for you.”

And telling Sam. That was the final knife to the chest. Mary asked him at the dinner table what he was most excited about the new school even though she knew. She fucking knew. Almost couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

“Uh… Ma’am. I think I’m going to keep working at the store full time. Pull my weight” Dean had said staring at his almost empty plate.

“What?? Dean, you can’t drop out!” Sammy had then immediately launched into a million reasons why Dean needed to stay in school.

“Enough Sam.” Rick had said. “Dean, Mary and I would love it if you continued your education, but if this is something you’d thought about and want, we’ll support you.”

“Yes sir.” Dean had mumbled, still burning a hole in his plate. Clenching his fists on his thighs, he managed to glance at Sammy who looked like he’d never been more disappointed with him in his life. 

He didn’t ask to be excused like he wanted to. He didn’t run up to his room and cry like he needed to. He just shut himself down. He joined Rick and Mary’s charade of a happy family and pushed everything else down as deep as it would go.


	5. Chapter 5

_Everything’s dark. The damn basement is one of those without windows, only a latch that opens wide from the outside. Like a storm cellar._

_Rick had thrown him down here this morning after Sam left for school. He doesn’t even know what he did this time. Was it really because he’d rolled his eyes at Mary this morning when she cooed that Sam was going to ask some chick to the dance? Fuck, he was just happy that Sammy was going at all! Dean had been picked up from Sonny’s right before he was supposed to go to his first dance. It was an affectionate goddamn eye-roll._

_But Rick caught it and as soon as Sam stepped out the door he smacked Dean across the face. Dean had curled his fists to fight but remembered how Rick had threatened to call his social worker and suggest the boys be split up. “Dean is becoming violent and I’m worried he won’t allow Sam to adjust to a proper environment,” he’d promised he’d say. So Dean rolled his neck and shook his hands loose._

_But it wasn’t over. Rick pulled his fist back and landed one right in Dean’s side while spitting out curses and how much of an “ungrateful shit” he was. He reached out to find some purchase, but the bastard just grabbed Dean’s arm hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises and dragged him out back._

_“I don’t want to see your fucking face for a while,” he raged and literally pushed Dean down the cellar stairs. He was damned lucky he landed on his ass._

_Well maybe he had hit his head because it seems like Sammy is already home. He must’ve blacked out. Dean can hear him through the floorboards._

_“Hey Mary, I’m home! Where’s Dean?” Sam shouts. Dean can’t hear the bitch’s response but it’s probably along the lines of he’s still at the shop._

_“Oh.” Sam sounds disappointed. “I just wanted to tell him how it went! Ally said yes!” his footsteps were getting farther and farther away which means Sam must be heading towards his room._

_Dean sighed. This has happened before. When Rick pulls up from the shop, he’ll let Dean out and tell him to go wash up like nothing happened._

_Except he doesn’t. He hears them gather for dinner and Sam asks again, “Um Rick… Did Dean not come home with you? The impala’s still in the driveway.”_

_“No Samuel. He completely skipped out on me today. I think he’s off gallivanting with that trashy girl he’s always messing about with.”_

_“Sorry sir. Sometimes Dean just does that kind of shi—stuff. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. I’ll talk to him and it won’t happen again.”_

_Dean rolls his eyes. Thanks for the back-up Sam. I’m glad you’re so worried. He’s feeling a bit woozy again from the hit he took and from hunger. Maybe he should close his eyes for a bit._

_It’s all a blur after that. He’s coming in and out to only darkness and muffled voices for three days._

_Fuck! He fucking pissed himself and he’s so hungry; his stomach hurts like a mother and why is his face wet? He’s been fucking crying and his lips are chapped and now there’s a really bright light and rough, cruel hands are dragging him out. He hears the start of a hose and feels the burn of cold water hit his skin –_

Dean wakes with a start and he can’t see a goddamn thing so he starts feeling around. It’s soft. He’s not on the floor. He’s on a bed. And it’s not completely dark. There’s morning light beginning to peer into the window and - oh yea! He’s at a motel with Sammy and Dad and everything’s how it’s supposed to be again. He looks over at his brother who, as usual, sleeps on his stomach and is drooling on the pillow. “Ok,” he thinks. It’s OK.”

\--

Sam’s not freakin’ OK. It’s his first day of high school tomorrow and he’s nervous as hell. The Winchesters have finished dinner and have moved on to their usual activities. Sam's reading on the recliner, Dean’s cleaning out his guns, and it’s fucking miller time for John. 

“Relax, Sammy,” he hears Dean sigh. “Damn, dude, the tension’s rolling off you in waves. Take it down a notch or you’ll lose all your silky hair.” Dean snorts and has a stupid grin on his face as he works the cold metal. Sam doesn’t know why but he wants to wipe it off. 

“Whatever man. One of us has to finish high school. We can’t all fall back on our looks when algebra gets too hard, _pretty boy_.” He almost hisses that last part. He remembers how much Dean hated it when Rick called him that. 

It has the desired effect. Dean’s not smiling anymore. He looks downright crushed. He feels a twist of gilt and he wants to apologize, but for some reason he can’t. Instead he says, “damn Mary was right, you’re so… sensitive.”

\--

Dean looks like he’s all of four years old. He thinks it’s because of the way Sam said ‘Mary.’ John also hates the idea that this woman shared a name with his wife. And sure, John was pissed when he heard Dean had chosen not to graduate, but if he was honest with himself, it was probably good that he wasn’t so attached to school. He’d had a year to make an honest dollar and will now be able to dedicate his time and cash to helping with the real family business.

“That’s enough Sam,” John says as he goes to reach for a beer from the mini fridge, pulling out two, setting one in front of Dean. 

“You know what Sam? The Jefferson’s weren’t who you think they were.” He hears Dean say. Barely. It was almost a whisper. 

But Sam heard it. “What are you talking about?”

A loud sigh escaped Dean’s mouth. John could see Dean contemplating whether or not he should continue. It’s obviously something he wasn’t planning Sam to hear. That boy is so damn expressive; John can read him like a book.

“Nothing Sammy, forget about it.” he pulls one big swig from his beer nodding to John as he takes the seat opposite him at the table. A silent thank you.

But Sam’s like a dog with a bone. “What? What do you mean? God, you’re so ungrateful. What they did for you, for us? I finally felt normal! You didn’t have to go to school. I mean, you were barely around! They gave you so much freedom and you –“

“They were mean Sammy! Real mean.” Dean wasn’t even making eye contact. Again John was reminded of Dean at four years old and he’d been pushed down at a playground. 

“Mean? What do you mean, they were _mean_?” Sam scoffed.

“I mean they were cruel Sammy. Big steaming pile of dicks. Not to you, of course. I wouldn’t of let them. But they were so goddamn awful to me. Called me names…” he trailed off like he didn’t want to continue. And even when he did John could tell he was holding back.

“Rick smacked me around… once or twice.” He said. John felt his heart pound and his blood start to boil. 

“Dean-“ John began, but his eldest cut him off with something else.

“And I didn’t want to quit school. I promised Dad I wouldn’t. They made me. Told me I needed to ‘earn my keep,’” And now he was looking at John. The looked screamed of an apology and shame. Before he could reach out to his boy, Sam found his voice again.

“You’re… you’re LYING! DAMMIT DEAN! You’re such a liar!” He shouted. But the tears in his eyes told John he didn’t really believe that. “I… I can’t stand you sometimes,” Sammy shook his head, stomped off to his room and slammed the door.

John took a breath and looked at his eldest right in the eyes. “You’re not lying. Are you, son?” It wasn’t a question. John knew. 

“No sir.”

“And they hit you?”

“Yes sir. Nothing serious, though. Just a few smacks when I was out of line.” Good. At least it wasn't that. He still had no idea what to say. Along the line he’d forgotten how to make everything better. He couldn’t kiss it better like he would a scrape from the jungle gym. So he said the only thing he could think of.

“Well, it’s over now. And we’ve got work to do.”

“Yes sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam wasn’t talking to Dean. John wanted to knock some sense into the boy. Dean just wanted to let it go.

John heard Dean trying to apologize to the youngest right after the incident. He’d knocked on the door and said, “I’m sorry Sammy, you’re right. I told Rick I wanted to earn my keep and he offered me a position at the shop.” Sam had refused to open up until John gave the order so Dean could go to sleep.

It had been a whole week before Sam seemed to have moved on. Neither boy brought up the Jefferson’s again.

The Winchesters settled into their old routine. The boys would go for a run at 5am, followed by sparring or a HIIT session. Dean would drive Sammy to the high school and pick him up from soccer practice at night. John worked part time as a mechanic and Dean would hustle pool and party with the local women. Everything was exactly as John liked it.

\---  
Oddly enough, it wasn’t until their third hunt back that everything really went to shit. 

For their first hunt Sammy stayed behind to do research while Dean and John went off to gank a wendigo a few hours away. It was pretty much a father son camping trip with a lot more blood and a very grateful family of four.

The second was Dean’s favorite; witches. Luckily it was just a high school Wikka group that stumbled upon a real spell book. Well… not so lucky for school’s guidance counselor. She’s been age regressed and doomed to re-live high school for the foreseeable future. 

The third one was a typical haunting. An easy salt and burn for Sammy to get his feet wet.

Sam started out bitching that he was sore from yesterday’s game - he’d started playing soccer for his high school’s JV team – but Dean could tell that he was just nervous that when this hunt was over they’d be moving again. Dean thinks John moved them to Vermont because of a lead he’s got on the demon. It will probably be a bust but they’ll be sticking around for a few months.

Anyway, they found a haunting just a couple towns over in Warren, Vermont. A couple had gone missing after renting out a ski cabin that hadn’t been occupied for going on forty years. Story was the last owner met her boyfriend there for a romantic weekend of skiing and champagne. Her husband had followed her and discovered her adultery. In a rage he murdered the boyfriend and stuffed him in the attic. Then the couple proceeded to have sex next to the body. Dean was kinky, but he thinks that’s a bit much. Rumor is the guy they murdered is getting revenge on anyone who steps foot inside. 

The three Winchesters snuck up to the house each armed with a utility belt containing an iron rod, a flask of salt, an EMF, and a blowtorch. Dean felt like Tim frickin’ Allen. He’d have to come up with a less lame way of handling ghosts. Shotgun rounds filled with rock salt, maybe? That could be cool. He mulled it over until John pulled them into a huddle.

“All right boys. This should be an easy one. Sam and I will take the house. Clear it out and make our way to the attack where the body probably is. Sam will salt and burn the bones while I ward the thing off if it attacks. Dean, you go around back and take the cellar.”

 _What??_ “Uh… Sir… why don’t I just stick with you two?”

“Dean. All we’re going on here is rumors. You know how these things go. A witness says attic but the remains are in the basement. The ghost could trap us all up stairs and we’d be S.O.L.”

“I get that sir. Maybe Sam and I can go handle the-“

“What the hell’s the matter with you, boy? Don’t question me. Just do your damn job!”

Sam snorts. “Yes, sir,” Dean says, bowing his head.

“Good. Let’s finish this.”

Dean creeps along the side of the cabin until he reaches the opening to the cellar. He takes a deep breath. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he admonishes, “you’ve cleared out basements before.”

He makes his way down, leaving the door open to keep the air flowing. At least that’s what he tells himself.

 _It’s really frickin dark down here._ Dean’s got his EMF as he stalks the perimeter of the room. He doesn’t see bones anywhere but they could be hidden inside the walls. That happens more often then you’d think. 

_I hate these dusty fucking basements._ His chest feels tight and his hands are starting to sweat. It’s a pretty big basement, so it takes him a while to get into all the nooks and crannies. 

He figures at this point it’s safe to say nothing’s down there. Dean starts making his way up the stairs. 

_BAM_

The cellar door swings shut and there’s a supernatural wind that knocks Dean on his ass. Now Dean’s head is right back at the Jefferson’s and he pretty much loses it. 

\---

Sam and John clear the cabin and make their way to the attic. Sam crinkles his nose. It’s one of those where you have to pull a string down to release the ladder and then you climb your way up into an unknown abyss. Why do all of these places have to be so God damned creepy? 

Sam goes in first so John can watch his back. Immediately he spots a pile or remains in the corner. He rushes to it, hoping to get this over and done with covering it with salt. He hears his dad grunt as he swings his iron at a spirit Sam doesn’t see. When he lights it up, the spirit is gone.

There’s a moment of peace until three more spirits arise out of nowhere. The attic opening slams shut. Probably all the doors closed with how loud the bang was. 

Apparently, there were three more victims. Two women and another man. ‘Seems this was a fantasy the couples repeated multiple times. And it looked like they alternated who brought the playmate. Sam’s knows he’s not particularly kinky to begin with, but he thinks this whole things a bit much. 

Sam gets thrown to the side by one of the spirits, but then John starts wailing on them with his iron. He swings it like it’s a freakin’ Katana! Even Sam has to admit it’s pretty badass.

He scurries over to the pile of bones he spots in another corner and makes haste at lighting them up. The doors all seem to release at once. They got ‘em. 

“Good work son,” John praises.

“Those were some pretty sweet moves, old man.” They both laugh. Dad playfully bumps Sam’s shoulder and Sam rolls his eyes. It’s nice not to feel like the third wheel for once. When it’s John, Dean, and Sam things can get heated fast.

Don’t get him wrong, 99.9 percent of the time he’d rather it be the Sam and Dean show. John just doesn’t really get where he’s coming from. They’re too different. But sometimes it’s nice not to feel like an alien with his own father. 

They make their way to the impala, but Dean’s not there. They wait for about 15 minutes. Sam’s older brother never shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a smaller note, it always makes me laugh when the boys use rock salt rounds in pre-season fics. Dean and his beautiful mind don't invent those until after Sam leaves for Stamford. That's pilot episode shit!
> 
> I've read it so many times that I wanted to make a point in my own fic about it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I really love comments :)


	7. Chapter 7

“Um… Dad.” Sam squinted his eyes looking off towards the Cabin for an oversized leather jacket; the only coverage his idiot brother wears in late November... in fucking Vermont.

“Alright Sammy. Follow me.” Sam’s extremely grateful this won’t have to be an argument. There was no chance he wasn’t going back for Dean.

“Maybe he got locked in? Those storm cellar doors can be tricky,” He suggests as they make they’re way down the gravel road. _Rick always told me not to go down there. Mary got locked in there for three hours one time when she thought she heard rats._ Yea. That was probably it. 

John only grunted. A shiver went down his spine. They might be dealing with another spirit, extra remains they didn’t find. 

“Get out your flashlight. I’m gonna go in first. Shine it over my shoulder.”

After John opens the door and lifts his rod, Sam does as he’s instructed. They make their way quietly down the stairs until he hears his father’s sudden intake of breath. He looks up and doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified by what he sees.

Dean is huddled in a dark corner of the basement, knees to his chest and the palms of his hands digging into his eye sockets. He’s shaking and muttering something neither man can understand.

Sam’s dad must be sure they’re not dealing with a spirit because he rushes for Dean, his iron rod clanging on the cement floor. Dean flinches and lets out a terrified whimper.

He follows his dad and notices Dean’s sitting in some sort of puddle. Sniffing the air, he feels his stomach clench when he places the scent of urine.

“Please.” He almost doesn’t hear his brother. “ _Please!_ ” This one came out loud and clear. A guttural moan Sam’s never heard out of Dean’s mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please let me out. Please don’t make me stay here,” Dean begs, looking into his father’s eyes but definitely not seeing him.

Sam didn’t realize he was walking backwards until his back hits a pillar. He’s paralyzed in this position, gripping the wood tightly while he watches his brother, his hero, struggling against an unseen threat. 

“What son? What are you sorry for?” John asks as he reaches out to cup Deans face with his hand. His other is gripping comfortingly on his son’s knee.

Sam can see Dean’s watery green eyes searching for their dad’s forgiveness. No, not their dad’s, someone else’s. _God, how can his eyes be so green in the dark?_ That’s when Sam remembers he’s shining the flashlight directly at them. He lowers it a bit to keep it out of his brothers’ eyes. He really wants to turn it off and run.

“Please…” Like that’s all he knows how to say. “Let me come up. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”

“You are good, son. You’re so good. What’s wrong? Where do you think you are?” John tries to pull Dean out of his waking nightmare.

“I didn’t mean to damage the floors. Where's Sammy? Can I see him?” Dean’s crying in earnest now. His chin is trembling. The smell is getting stronger and Sam really thinks they should get Dean out of there. He must be freezing. 

“Dean, I’m right here,” Sam manages. He doesn’t know what Dean’s talking about. He moves to make his way next to John.

“Sammy?? Why are you down here? Please, don’t make him stay down here. I’ll be good, Rick, Please!” Sam is frozen again. He feels like he’s going to throw up. He swallows the bile back down. 

“Dean. It’s your Dad. It’s not Rick. You’re in a cabin in Vermont. We were on a hunt. You're Safe.” It doesn’t seem to get through. John repeats the mantra over and over until they hear-

“Dad?” Dean croaks. 

“Yea, Dean-o. It’s your dad. I’m here.” Sammy watches as John pulls Dean into his arms, one hand in his brother hair, the other rubbing circles on his back. All three Winchesters are crying now. That’s new. They stay right where they are until Dean is slack in John’s arms, asleep.

With strength Sam didn’t know he had, John lifts Dean into his arm like he’s all of six years old and carries Dean out of the cellar. 

Sam follows them back to the car, a sense of dread like he’s never felt before weighing him down. 

\---

With Sammy’s help they lay Dean down in the back seat of the impala. The tears are drying on his face. With their eyes turned away they wordlessly strip him of boots then his socks, pants, and boxers; all completely soaked through. Sammy burns clothes and puts the boots in the trunk while John lays both their jackets over his eldest boy. _Thank God Dean is sleeping; he’ll be embarrassed enough when he wakes up._

John moves to the front seat to start the car. His youngest is leaning against a tree gripping his hair with tears streaming down his face. The gesture is all Dean. John revs his engine to get the kid’s ass in gear, anger slowly mixing into the fear and desperation that’s been sitting in his gut. 

Sam climbs in and John rips out onto the road, swerving as the tires attempt to grip the gravel.

They drive in completely silence for half an hour. John’s jaw is clenched so tight he feels his teeth might crack.

He slams his hand on the dash, making Sammy jump. 

“Dammit Sam, what happened to him??” 

“I- I don’t-“

“What’d those bastards do to your brother?!” He casts an accusatory glance Sam’s way.

“What do you _mean_?? I don’t-“

“For fuck’s sake Sam don’t tell me you don’t know! What the hell happened back there?”

Sam’s eyes dart back and forth like he’s working out a puzzle in his head. The tears are back all at once and John has to resist the urge to smack him. Sam might be young, but he’s a hunter. Hell, he’s a goddamn soldier and he should have seen what was happening in his own unit. 

But Sam doesn’t respond. At least not for another twenty minutes or so. He’s looking out the window with his eyes glazed over until he finally finds his tongue.

“I think they hurt him, Dad,” the boy whispers, voice cracking. “I think they hurt him real bad.”

John sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Yea Sammy. I think they did.” Dean’s shaky breathing is the only sound they hear until they reach the motel.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is really short, but the next one will be a long one, I promise!

Dean had been in the shower long enough for the water to go ice cold. He was done for 10 minutes, but knew when he walked out the bathroom door, he’d be faced with the two most important people in his world looking to him for answers he doesn’t want to give. 

God, sometimes they’re so alike it hurts. Dean has embraced his father’s music, his clothes, his love of cars, and one day he’ll definitely inherit John’s alcoholism, but Sam… Sam was more John than Dean will ever be. Strong and completely unmovable. And they don’t even see it.

What does that make Dean? Weak. He’s always been weak. And Sammy’s right, he’s a follower. Everyone’s always right about Dean, really. John calls him a soldier; Sam calls him John’s blunt little instrument; Mary calls him a pussy bitch. It all means the same thing. Dean’s a mindless grunt who can’t think for himself and if he walks out that door, he won’t be able to pretend anymore. 

He knows he’s got about two minutes before Sam breaks down the door and Dean thinks they’ve all seen enough of his dick for one evening. He turns of the faucet and drapes on a towel. And if he avoids the mirror on the way out, maybe he can fake it for a little while longer.

Sure enough, when Dean walks into the motel room John and Sam’s heads swing dramatically in his direction. He can’t help but chuckle and they’re looks take on the same concerned frown and it’s so hilarious he wants to cry. 

The Winchesters are quiet as Dean makes his way to his duffle to pull out an old t-shirt that might have been one of Sam’s and a pair of boxers. He hopes silently they will let him just go to bed and save their worried looks for tomorrow.

No such luck because when he turns around, John is pouring Sam a small glass of Jack. Apparently it’s just been one of those nights. He’d never outright chastise his father in front of an already rebellious Sam, so he sits down in the chair between them and downs Sam’s glass himself.

“So… Did we get the son of a bitch?”

“Dean-“

“Cause I’ll tell ya, I wouldn’t mind going back to that cabin. I’ve never been skiing before. Rich people really seem to like it.”

“Dean-“

“But you know, I think snowboarding would be more my thing. Or maybe hockey, but I don’t think they have that at ski resorts. Francis over hear would make a really pretty figure skater…”

“De-“

“What, Sammy? What?” He looks to his brother and begs him with his eyes not to ask. His prayers go half-answered when instead his dad puts his hands on his shoulder. For some reason that makes Dean really pissed off. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t you treat me like some scared little boy! You know, this is the most affection you’ve shown me since I was eight? Is that what I’ve gotta do for you? Throw a fucking tantrum and piss myself?” 

John doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t tell Dean to shut up and sit down like he usually would. Doesn’t yell at him to show some fucking respect. Both of them just keep looking at him like he’s some fragile china doll and he can’t fucking stand it. He used to be their rock. He used to be Sam’s hero. All of a sudden he can’t breath. The motel walls are closing in and he needs to get outside. He storms out the door without another word.

Once he’s in the parking lot he doesn’t know what to do next. He didn’t take the keys out with him; so going for a ride is out. He takes a few deep breaths before exhaustion hits him and he sinks down next to their room door. 

After a few minutes John walks out and takes a seat next to him. 

“I’m sorry Son, we didn’t mean to corner-“

“Why didn’t you call, Dad?”

“What?”

“When you left the hospital. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I… found out where you were immediately after I got out. Bobby Singer had called your social worker tryin’ to get custody and found out where you were stayin’ for me. I swung by the house when you and Sammy were just getting back from his division championships or something. He was clutching on this trophy like it was everything. He seemed so happy and you were smiling and the Jefferson’s were taking pictures. It looked real nice, so I decided I’d handle the were and give you guys until the summer. I thought I was doing good by you.”

Dean nodded. Sammy had been so fucking proud and Dean hadn’t been in the basement in two weeks so he counted that as a win. Hell, Sam had cut the cake that day so the Jefferson’s couldn’t even be mad when the youngest cut Dean a huge piece. Yea… they must’ve looked pretty damn suburban. It was probably Sammy’s fucking wet dream.

“OK.” He got up and made to go back inside.

“You ready to go back in there?” 

“I ain’t having this conversation twice, sir.” And with that, Dean marched back into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning this chapter to be Dean's big confession, but when I was writing Dean kept getting angry. He wasn't in the mind frame he was in season two when he finally confessed to Sam that he thought John had sacrificed himself for Dean. No, it felt more like earlier when he would snap, deflect, and eventually punched Sam in the face.
> 
> I needed to calm him down and I also thought he needed to confront John about leaving them there for longer than necessary before he could have any sort of heart to heart with him. I didn't realize how much of a problem that was for him. Now he gets it. Because Dean always puts Sam first so in his mind, why shouldn't John? And also because it's Dean, this didn't need to be a long conversation. John gave him his explanation and Dean took it. That's just how he is. Later in life (season 2 on) he'll look back and see that John was just human and made plenty of mistakes, but definitely not now. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments and kudos! It means a lot :)


	9. Chapter 9

Back at the table, straddling his chair, Dean steals his face into a hardened, unreadable expression. He prepares to speak as if he’s talking about a hunt-- clinical, unattached. 

“The first time they hit me was three days after we arrived.” His eyes are unfocussed, looking between John and Sam at nothing at all. He can’t see any expressions or reactions. There’s no intake of breath or a gasp; his family doesn’t want to shake him up, they’re probably holding their breath.

“Each night I’d been laying salt lines in mine and Sammy's rooms and waking up early to clean up. I hid a bowie under my pillow. That third day, Mary had taken Sammy to catch a film. I figured it was some sort of ‘divide and conquer’ bonding technique. She and Sammy; Rick and me. It wasn’t. Turns out Rick had found the salt and knife while I’d been cleaning up Sam’s room that morning. Rick wanted to wait for Sam to get out of the way to show me what the deal was.”

“As soon as they pulled out the drive, Rick landed one right into my stomach. I was caught off guard but dodged his next hit, grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back. I had him pressed against the wall when he said the magic words.”

“He told me he’d have me taken away and sent to a group home or something." Dean’s voice cracked a bit; so much for keeping it together. “He said the knife and my obvious psychosis would be enough for the social workers to take me away and that he’d let them know I was preventing Sam from having a experiencing a safe household environment. If I wanted to stay, I had to shut up, work at their shop, and take whatever I had coming to me.”

“They both had a lot of anger. The shop wasn’t doing well and they were in massive debt. For the summer months it wasn't so bad at the house. Sammy was home all the time and they loved you, Sam,” he looked his brother in the eyes, “they really, really did.” It's important that Sam knows that for some reason. 

“During the summer, I spent most of my time at the shop. Rick could be a little freer with the punches and Mary would drag me through the aisles by my hair when I didn’t find something fast enough. She’d call me stupid… useless…” Dean’s eyes were going misty. _Suck it up, get to the shit that matters. No one cares that she hurt your feelings, you baby_

“Anyways, that’s all it really was until Sammy started up at school. Then one day, while I was cleaning up the house, Mary’s mother called. I picked up and apparently she didn't know her daughter had taken in two boys. She'd only heard of Sammy. Rick caught me talking to her and when I hung up, he and Mary went in on me. They took me out back and brought me down to their cellar and told me to stay there.”

“It was dank and wet and dark, but I was used to that on hunts. It was a relief, really, to be away from them for the day, and before Sammy came home they let me out and told me to keep my mouth shut. It wasn’t really a problem. Hell, for me it was best case scenario.”

“It happened a couple more times, but those were always my favorite days. Meant I was away from them until Sammy got back.” Now Dean was getting to the part he really didn’t want to talk about. He looked down in his lap and took a few moments. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but John touched his arm and shook his head.

“Uh… remember your fall dance Sammy? When you told us you were gonna ask that cute brunette girl with the braces to go with you? It uh… was real cute and Mary was so excited for you. I was fulfilling my big brother duties of groaning and rolling my eyes…” Sammy nodded; worry filling his face. “Well apparently Rick never had a nerdy little brother. That day he dragged me out to the cellar again and threw me down the stairs.” 

“I must’ve hit my head or something cause when I came to you were already home and asking for me. Rick told you I never came into work—“ He coughed, words catching in his throat. Hell, this is the longest Dean’s talked in a long time, and he was never big on monologues.

“Three days.” Ah, there’re the gasp he’d been waiting for. “I was down there for three days. Hungry and sitting in my own filth. When Rick finally came for me he dragged me up the stairs and let me fall to the ground while he hosed me down like a dog.” He felt salt on his tongue and realized he had started to cry. Slow tears. Just one… then another.

“He told me to tell you I’d stayed with this chick for a few days and my phone had broken. That part wasn’t a lie, seeing as it was in my pocket when he sprayed me down. It was the perfect cover, really, cause it gave them a reason to scream at me in front of you. From then on they turned me into some sort of disrespectful, white trash townie.”

“Everything escalated after that.” He catches Sam’s eyes again, “You told me I was gone all the time? I wasn’t. I was right underneath you.” He wasn’t saying this to hurt Sam. He wasn’t angry, he was just sad. Now Sam’s tears were falling too.

“They started to keep me down there longer and longer. They finally learned to move my car so you’d think I had taken off for a while. I never really knew where you thought I went. I knew they’d sometimes text you from my phone so you wouldn’t worry, though.” 

“The longest they kept me down there was two weeks.” John slammed his fist on the table, causing Sam and Dean to jump. Dean looked at his father, whose other hand were now covering his eyes, then pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Uh… Sammy, you were on a school trip for one of the weeks so you didn’t notice how long I’d been away. But, man…” Dean scratches his head, unconsciously, “I thought I was going to die down there. I seriously lost my shit. Luckily it rained real hard one night -about a week in- and the basement flooded a bit. I was able to drink that.”

“I woke up in the hospital with a feeding tube down my throat and an IV in my arm. Rick and Mary told the cops I’d been camping and got lost up in some woods. Showed them a broken satellite phone and some camping equipment they’d put in my trunk to prove it… by the time you came home we were back to pretending nothing happened.”

“Good news was they never sent me back down there after that. Three weeks later Dad called, and we got the hell out of dodge. No harm, no foul.”

Sam was gaping at him. “No harm, no foul??? God, Dean…” The problem was there was nothing Sam could say.

“Yea, well. Story time is over. Any questions from the gallery?”

Everything was quiet for a moment. John and Sam wracking their brains for something –anything- to say, and Dean wishing the floor could swallow him up whole. Dean looked over at the clock. It was five a.m. meaning somewhere along the line he’d missed the sun coming up. 

“All righty then. I think I’m gonna hit the hay.” Without another word he walked over and flopped onto his bed.

John murmured something about getting coffee or breakfast or something before grabbing the keys and rushing out of the room like it was on fire. Sam locked the door behind him and laid down the salt lines. It wasn’t until Dean heard the creaks of the other mattress that he let the darkness overtake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks for reading :)


	10. Chapter 10

Sam couldn’t sleep. He wanted – _needed_ \- to hear the sound of Dean’s steady breathing. He looks up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, waffling between urges to run and vomit in the bathroom or curl up into a ball and cry.

In reality, what he really wants is to crawl into Dean’s bed, like he did when they were kids. But he doesn’t deserve to share that space with his older brother, and Dean would land him on the floor if he tried. His heart physically hurts when he glances over at the teenager; looking much less hard and impenetrable in his sleep.

 _God. How did I let this happen? How could I have missed it?_ And Sam really _hadn’t_ known what was going on. He thinks about those serial killer exposés he likes to watch on television sometimes. In those stories, when everything comes to light, people always say they’d had a bad feeling in the pit of their stomachs from the beginning, or had seen red flags that made them stop and think. But Sam never suspected a thing.

 _You’ve always been so self-absorbed, that’s your problem._ He can’t help but think how disappointed he was with Dean’s attitude and actions over the course of the last year. His loser brother; the dropout. Sam had nodded his head at the dinner table when Rick and Mary would discuss how they didn’t know what to do with Dean. How it was such a shame that the "problem child" had no upward trajectory, no social skills, and wouldn’t be able to make anything useful of himself. God, had he been right under the floorboards then? Had he heard Sam apologizing for him? Saying stupid things like “he was never any good at school,” “he’s been drinking since he was 14,” or, “I think he was traumatized by our mother's death.” _Shit, he’d talked about Mom!_ That, more than anything else, would break Dean’s heart.

Hell, Sam had even been pissed that Dean hadn’t shirked his old wardrobe of baggy jeans, flannels, and their dad’s old leather jacket. Work clothes, he saw them as. An announcement of their ‘rambling man’ days and working class mentality.

 _Are you that ashamed of who you really are? Who Dean is?_ Yes, he thinks sometimes he is. And doesn’t that just make him want to punch himself in the face? Maybe once Dean has a chance to let everything sink in he’ll do the honors. Sam hopes so.

What he really can’t believe is he was never worried about Dean when he was gone. Dean _never_ used to leave him alone. He was always a presence, always hyper-aware of where his little brother was and made a point of putting himself there. Why would that have changed? _You never even asked._ Dean would get home after being gone a few days and Sam would launch into whatever it was he’d thought was important. He never asked who Dean was seeing, what Dean might be doing. He was always afraid of the answer. That Dean was slutting around, committing crimes, or worse – hunting. And if he was, Sam wanted no part of it. Fuck, he’d never even met the girl Rick and Mary always “saw” Dean with.

But Goddammit, why didn’t Dean tell him what was going on? Why didn’t they take off to Bobby’s or Pastor Jims? No one would have been able to track them down and either man would have been happy to help them out. Dean had so many options.

 _Don’t you do that! Don’t you blame him, you ungrateful brat._ Because that’s what Sam always does, isn’t it? Blame Dean, blame his Dad. He probably would have dragged his feet and told Dean he was overreacting if he knew Dean wanted to bolt. _God he would have, wouldn’t he?_

Sam needs to get up and do something. He can’t keep thinking in circles. He wants to punch something… the wall… himself… John… Dean. He needs to move, needs to rip the Jefferson’s apart. He needs to fix this.

He looks over at the clock. It’s 8:15 a.m. now; almost three hours since Dad went to get a breakfast. _A drink more likely._ Not that Sam blames him, for once. Even his eyes have darted over to the unfinished bottle of Jack a few times, but he knew if Dean woke up, he’d be pissed.

Dean. His protector. He knows his dad always tells Dean to look out for Sam, he knows Dean thinks that’s his number one purpose in life, but damn, Sam was supposed to be looking out for him too. And he’d failed. He’d failed so miserably.

\----

John was an hour out of the state before he realized what he was doing. He had intended to pick up breakfast, but now it looked like he was a little over a day’s drive from kicking down the Jefferson’s door and breaking their fucking necks. And that’s if he he has to stop. 

There are no real thoughts going on in his head. Just rage. Not his usual cold, calculating anger that he focuses and directs at tracking the yellow-eyed demon. No, this is different. This is no-holds-bar; screw the rules anger that makes you sloppy.

John doesn’t care. Those fuckers are as bad as any other thing he’s hunted in his life. Worse than any Chuck he shot over in ‘Nam. He won’t let them get away with what they did to his son. Correction, what John _let_ them do to his son while he went off to kill that overgrown wolf… when he went off to spend time with Adam. He turns up _Grand Illusion_ to drown out his own guilt and tears down the highway. The irony is not lost on him. 

He doesn’t hear the phone ring over the music until the much more shrill sound of his other phone blares from the glove compartment. He reaches over, trying to avoid swerving as he fiddles with the old handle.

“Dad?”

Suddenly he’s alert, “Sammy? Where are you? Is Dean up?”

“No. I’m just outside the door; I didn’t want to wake him. What’s that music? Are you at a bar? What bar is even open right now?”

John lowers the volume and takes a deep breath. He exhales, “No Sam, I’m not at a bar. I’m on the road.”

“On the road? Why? Where are you going?” There’s a pregnant pause and John practically hears Sam piece it together.

“No, Dad.”

“No, Dad? Really Sam?” His righteous fury finds its first target, “What? You still care about those assholes, boy? Still think your brother’s a liar? ‘Cause there can’t be anything wrong when Sammy’s getting his way. When Sammy gets to play soccer and debate club and whatever else bullshit thing you want to do.”

He hears Sam let out a shaky breath. “No, Sir. I…” John hears Sam muffle a sob into elbow. _Stellar work, John. Mary’d be so proud._

Sam continues, “It’s just… I think Dean might need us here. Both of us. At least for now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry Sammy… you know I didn’t mean that.”

“No, sir. I get it. It’s true. I was an asshole.”

John chuckles without humor. “Well, maybe a little. But I know this wasn’t your fault and so does your brother. You know Dean, if he doesn’t want you to know something… well…”

“Apparently not, sir.” But John’s willing to bet there’s still a thing or two Dean-o’s keeping close to the vest. 

“Just take care of him _now_ , Sam.”

Sam’s shouting now, “No! Dammit, we weren’t there! Neither of us...” John hears the chocked sound of tears flowing. “I was one room away from him and I refused to see what was right in front of me. You were halfway across the damn country. We can’t do that to him again. We can’t. _We_ need to take care of _Dean_ now. For once.”

It hit John like a freight train. These were his _boys_ , the most precious things in the world to him. And look what’s happening right now, his eldest is spiraling and he’s having one of the most important conversations of Sam’s life over the phone. Not to mention, he’s just instructed a 14 year old to take care of his traumatized older brother. 

“Dammit, kiddo, you’re right. Uh… just go out and get you and Dean something to eat... you both gotta eat. But don't forget to leave a note in case he wakes up. I’ll be home in three hours.” He's about to hang up when he hears Sammy start up again. 

“And Dad… When it is time to face the _people_ who did this to my brother… I’m coming with you.” And if it weren’t for the “dad” at the beginning of the statement, John would think it was his cold voice making that promise. 

John nods and hangs up the phone, pulls the steering wheel into the opposite lane, and hauls ass back to his kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give Dean some much needed rest.


	11. Chapter 11

Three weeks went by and Sam had never been more excited for school to let out for December break, even if it did mean they’d left Vermont for good. Sam and Dean were in the impala, following their Dad’s pickup. The Winchester three were on their way to Uncle Bobby’s for a bit and Sam would start school up again in Sioux Falls. John thought it would be good for all of them as Sam and Dean had both gone to school there a few times over the years and had managed to make a couple of semi-friends. They never kept in touch while they were away, but the town seemed to always welcome them back warmly. 

Nobody has spoken about Dean’s post-breakdown confession since that night. John had come back and told them gruffly that he’d “needed some air.” Dean had nodded mournfully as if he thought John’s anger had been directed at him.

Sam had tried to start a dialogue but he was met with sharp looks from Dean and quick exits from John every time he mentioned the Jefferson’s. He wished they would be able to talk about this, for Dean’s sake, and he was infuriated that John seemed to be making no effort with his favorite son. But John was here and they were going to a place Sam and Dean felt safe, so Sam kept his mouth shut… as much as possible. 

He honestly had no idea how Dean was doing. It was so like his brother to shove everything down and act like Sam’s world hadn’t just been spun on its axis. The closest they got to any sort of heart to heart was while they were packing up the motel room.

_Sam was searching everywhere for his favorite comic book, a Batman one Dean had gotten him for his birthday. Hell, even if it wasn’t his favorite, he didn’t want to lose something he’d gotten from his brother. What if Dean asked about it? He couldn’t just say he’d lost it or left it behind. Dean would be crushed. Dean would never forgive him._

_He found it under a couch cushion and held it close to his chest as he sunk to the ground. He wanted to cry out of relief._

_That’s when he saw Dean enter, the trashbin in his hands, with a look of confused determination on his face. After he scanned the room and saw his brother, he swiftly made his way over to the couch and thunked down on the carpet next to Sam._

_“What’re these doing in here?” He’d asked Sam, tilting the waist basket and revealing Sam’s soccer cleats, half-heartedly covered with crumpled up paper._

_Sam sighed. For once he didn’t want to talk about it. Rick and Mary had gotten him those and he no longer wanted anything to do with them. He didn’t want Dean to worry, as he was obviously doing now. Damn, he should have just burned them._

_“Uh… nothing…. I think I’m over soccer; it wasn’t really me… I guess.” Dean raised his eyebrow but said nothing. “ I’m thinking of doing the school musical this year maybe. Maybe run tech… or something… I don’t know…” He rambled._

_Dean smiled this wide, knowing smile and Sam felt warmth pool in his chest. Dean swung an arm over Sam’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Then he ruffled his hair and said, “You sure got the locks for it, drama queen.”_

_“Whatever, jerk.”_

_“Bitch.” Dean winked before he stood up and went to gather the rest of his things. Sam was once again taken aback by how cool and strong his big brother was. He made a vow then and there to never forget it again._

\---

Everything had been pretty chill at Bobby’s for the past two weeks. The Winchesters didn’t really _do_ Christmas and luckily the grumpy older man seemed to feel the same way. It’s a naturally somber time when your family doesn’t feel quite whole, but the boys did enjoy the snow. Moving around as much as they did, Dean never really mastered the art of the snowman or igloo, but he’s a natural with his hands and with the help of Sammy, they made a pretty badass fort … even if they could only bear to sit in it for, like, twenty minutes.

Yea, Dean was really starting to feel like himself again with regular training in the cool South Dakota woods and sparring sessions that landed his father on his back. _Don’t get cocky. He’s probably going easy on you._ But not even Dean could doubt that his skills with a gun had never faltered and he was still the sharpest shooter in the Winchester gang. They’d even been going on small hunts as a family and Dean was completely freak-out free.   
The best part was Sam had started to grump and complain again. Sure, Dean hated it when Sam and their dad fought, and sure, Dean wished Sam understood how important their job was, but this meant things were back to normal. And if Dean was really honest with himself, he actually hopes Sam gets his dream of a “normal” life, whatever that means.

It really seemed like everyone had forgotten Dean’s pathetic sob story until the night before Sammy’s school break was over. It was dinnertime, and Sam had been talking animatedly about “Our Town”. Apparently he’d heard from his friend Cindy, who’d heard from her friend Josh, who was the Drama Teacher’s boy, that that would be this year’s musical. Dean was busy thinking about what an absolute _dork_ his baby brother was, that he missed Bobby’s question.

“Dean-o,” Bobby repeated and Dean caught his eye, “you thinkin’ about joining your brother over there or you gonna work with me on some busted up cars after school like a real man?” Bobby winked at Sam so he’d know there was no real heat in his words.

Dean could feel his face go red and the table went eerily quiet. Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw John take a pull from his beer. 

“Uh… no, sir. I… uh… actually dropped out Bobby.” The trucker gaped at him then looked at his father with anger set in his brow.

“Dammit John! I could throttle you! The boy needs a damn education. Don’t let your goddamned vendetta take that from him too!” Bobby was yelling now. John looked ready to respond in kind so Dean quickly interrupted.

“Bobby, no. I… uh… actually dropped out last year.”

He looked confused now. “Last year? But that was when…. Why’d you do such a stupid thing like that, son?”

Dean was about to feed him the usual line when John finally spoke up, “Bobby, can I speak to you in the other room for a second?”

Dean knew where this was going. He didn’t want Bobby knowing what a weakling he was too, but he knew not to argue with his father, so he could only watch as John grabbed an entire six pack and led Bobby into the study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but YAY brothers :) and YAY Bobby! 
> 
> I honestly was not planning on pulling Bobby into this story, because I feel that father-son relationship they had was really forged after John died, but I still thought he could probably help by using his relationship with John before it turned sour. So YAY! Some good John and Bobby to come next chapter. 
> 
> And, of course, I think Bobby always loved Dean and Sam so there could be some good stuff coming with them too, we'll see.


	12. Chapter 12

“Well Shit, John,” Bobby half sighs/half grumbles after John gave him the low-down on the past year plus change.

“Tell me about it, Bobby. It’s like I don’t even know where to start with him… how to make it all right again…. If it ever was. Most of the time he seems fine, he’ll smile, make his usual jokes, but if he thinks no one’s watchin’ him…” John runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath.

“Go on….”

John sighs. “I don’t know, he gets this dejected look on his face. Like his spirit’s been crushed or something… Let me tell you, if I ever get my hands on Rick fucking Jefferson…” He didn’t have to finish that sentence, his motivation was written clearly all over his face. 

“Well I’ll tell ya, I’d kill the S.O.B without thinkin’ twice… but it’s that Mary bitch I’d like to have under my devil’s trap.” Bobby said wistfully. John gives him a quizzical look.

“Think about it John. Look, I had myself a real mean daddy. The man hit my mamma and me more times than I can count. But it wasn’t the smacks or the punches that got me …” Bobby sounded like he was about to say more but he stops for a second and John catches the haunted look on his face. He starts over, “it was the words, more often than not. The things he said to us. It’s been 40 some odd years and I still believe some of the shit the drunk told me about me.”

John doesn’t really get where Bobby’s going with this so he doesn’t say anything at all. Bobby gives him a moment, and then continues.

“Now my old man never locked me in a basement or nothin’. I can only imagine that’d give a kid some nightmares and a big bout of PTSD. But long run? I’d say that woman has him all twisted ‘round thinkin’ everything that happened is his fault. Hell, she had the kid’s own brother convinced Dean wasn’t nothin’ more than a wolfish grin with too-green eyes. And those boys of yours ain’t sheep. “

John never really thought about the things the wrong Mary had said to his boy. He knew it wasn’t pretty, but he figured there were more pressing matters and Dean could buck up from a little name-calling. But hey, it’s not like John had been free with the compliments all these years. Sammy shined in school but where did he expect Dean to gain any kind of self-esteem? Being good with the lady’s can only warm you so much.

This was way out of John’s area of expertise so he switched to anger. 

“So what’re you saying Bobby? You think I should sit the boy down and talk about ‘sticks and stones’ for Christ’s sake?” Deep down John knew his anger stemmed from fear and that this attitude wasn’t going to help. So, he moved on to the truth of the matter. 

“Dammit Bobby… There’s a war brewing; I can feel it. And every time I get closer to this Demon, the more scared I get for Sam. I don’t know if this thing will strike again and kill him, or if he wants him for something. I just know whatever it is ain’t good. I can’t _do_ this with Dean. Broken bones, I can fix. PTSD, I have my fair share, I can lay down some wisdom. But any more than that?” John slightly shakes his head and hates himself for what he’s about to say, “I need my soldier back. He can’t be flinching at a bad tone or afraid of his own shadow the way he is right now.”

“You’re a real piece of work, John.” Bobby looks at him with such disappointment that John immediately calms down and flops into one of the man’s chairs. 

“Don’t I know it,” John admits. He wishes he could change the way those kids had to grow up but he can’t. The closest he gets to being a normal father is when he visits Adam once or twice a year and lord knows that isn’t doing that boy any favors. He knows what it’s like growing up without a Dad and he isn’t fooling himself into thinking what he’s doing to that kid is any different. But that boy could get therapy some point down the line, Dean doesn’t have that option.

Bobby leans over the desk and pears down at John like he’s the principle and John’s a kid he’s had it up to here with. “You listen to me and you listen to me good. Dean Winchester deserves to get through this without letting it inform every moment for the rest of his life. And if you can’t take the time to work with him and see him through this, then you leave him to me.”

“What?” John doesn’t really get what the older man is saying.

“You leave those boys here and you go off and hunt the dang demon and whatever else you can find. When you get bored find a woman, or better, come visit your boys, but don’t you dare pull that young man down the pit with you.” There is fire and brimstone in Bobby’s eyes and John wouldn’t be surprised if Bobby took a swing.

“You’re crazy Bobby. I’m not leaving my boys here.”

“Why not? It’s warded up the ass, they’d be safe here and you know it.”

Now John knew he had it coming for what he was about to do. “No, Bobby. I’m not leaving my boys again. And I think it might be best if we leave. Tonight.”

\---

Sam and Dean had been lying out on the hood of the impala. They’d left the kitchen when they started hearing yelling coming from the other room. Neither brother spoke, they simply sipped on some soda and lots themselves in thought.

Dean knew the two older men were fighting about him and he hated it. But he was also a little pissed off. _Why don’t we get Pastor Jim on the line? Let’s ask him what we should to do about poor, abused Dean?_ He thought bitterly.

_Why did John have to tell Bobby, anyway? Couldn’t they just leave it alone? No one bad touched me or used me as an ashtray; I count that as a win. If I’m ready to move on and forget that year ever happened, why can’t Dad? Why can’t Sam?_

_You know how a little brother shows his big brother that everything’s not normal? He’s nice to him. And Sammy’s been so fucking nice lately. He’s all reassuring looks and soft smiles and placating ‘yes sirs’ to their father. I’m so fucking sick of it I could scream! I’m not broken; they don’t have to be so gentle with me all the time._

_I’m not broken I’m not broken I’m not broken. I AM NOT BROKEN._ Dean screamed that in his head like a prayer to God and shot up from the car.

At that exact moment John staggered out of the house looking worse for wear, a black eye forming on his right and trail of blood leaking from his nose. It looked like he’d attempted to clean it up a bit as there was red stained around his mouth as well. 

“What the hell happened, Dad?” Dean’s eyes were wide and he was trying not to run to his father.

“We’re leaving. Now. Go get your stuff boys.”

“What?? No!” Oh right, Sammy’s there.

“Shut up, Sam. Now boys, go.”

Dean was in shock and it took him a second to get his legs moving. But he’d never disobeyed an order and he grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pushed him towards the door. He was beyond hearing any of the protests coming out of the younger boys mouth. 

When they got inside they were greeted to a sad look from Bobby who, other than a bruise on his wrist where John had probably deflected a blow, looked untouched. Right then Dean knew his father didn’t want to take them away, just like he didn’t want to hurt the other man. He nodded his head as he realized that either Bobby didn’t want to deal with Dean’s bullshit or John didn’t want to hear what Bobby had to say about it. It didn’t matter. Either way Sammy’s newest tears are his fault, just like everything else.

As he packed up his duffle, not for the last time, he made a promise to himself. He was not going to be a victim any longer. He wasn’t going to let John or Sam or anyone treat him like anything other than a loyal son or a kick-ass older brother.

As far as he’s concerned, the last year and a half never happened. He’ll say it till he’s blue in the face. If he denies it enough it will eventually become the truth. No one can make him talk about it anymore because there’s nothing to talk about. Eventually, he won’t even have to pretend. 

As Sam and Dean walked out the front door, Bobby grips him by the shoulders with both hands and says, “Boy, whatever that woman said to you; she was wrong. And none of it, none of this, is your fault. You gotta know that.”

Dean looked at him point blank in the eye and, without missing a beat, replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bobby.”

He walks towards his father, who has moved from leaning arms crossed on the impala to the driver’s side of the pickup. Sammy is quiet as he gets into the car next to Dean. He puts the car in drive and turns up the music. Whitesnake’s _“Here I Go Again”_ blasts from the speakers. When it hits the second chorus, Dean starts singing along. 

_“And here I go again on my own_  
_Goin' down the only road I've ever known_  
_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_  
_An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time_  
_But here I go again, here I go again,_  
_Here I go again, here I go”_

He’s really getting into it when Sammy breaks from his stupor, obviously thrilled to her Dean lose himself again, and joins in. 

_“'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams_  
_Here I go again on my own_  
_Goin' down the only road I've ever known_  
_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_  
_An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time_  
_Here I go again on my own_  
_Goin' down the only road I've ever known_  
_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_  
_'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams_

_Here I go again on my own_  
_Goin' down the only road I've ever known_  
_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone”_

\---

The brothers sing along through three cassette tapes, following John’s pickup with little interest. They both laugh and smile as they sing, thinking to themselves as long as they’ve got each other and the road, they’ll never truly be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys. :(
> 
> I know that we wanted some fatherly advice from Bobby to Dean but I couldn't make it happen. I just felt in my heart that as much as Bobby has probably always loved the boys like a father, Dean wouldn't let him be that until John was gone. And although they'll meet again (Bobby still has to pull out his shotgun) this is the beginning of the end of Bobby and John's strong mentorship/friendship. 
> 
> As for John, he was really trying to do the right thing by bringing them to Bobby's but he just couldn't follow through and see past his own demons, figuratively and literally. But that's the John the show gave us, goodhearted but flawed, so that's what I had to work with. 
> 
> As for Dean, I couldn't reconcile him being able to see the truth of his own situation or have a big moment that made it all alright. I mean he learned from a very young age to put his own issues aside, so that's what he did here and will probably keep doing in Season 11. 
> 
> There is one more chapter that is more like an epilogue coming, so don't give up on me. One final question will be answered.


	13. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for joining me on my first multi-chapter journey! I hope you find this ending satisfying!

TWO YEARS LATER

Yesterday was Dean’s 20th birthday and after a somewhat stunted “celebration” he’s currently swinging his legs over the balcony of the two-storied motel they’re currently staying at. If you asked Dean, he couldn’t tell you what city they were in.

He had gone out to pick up Chinese and came back to Sammy and John screaming. He didn’t bother going in. For the past 10 minutes he’d been listening to a soundtrack of muffled fighting, occasionally hearing his own name. He’d figured it to be the usual “Sorry I’m not your little bitch like Dean!” “Don’t talk about your brother like that, you ungrateful brat,” conversation until he heard something odd. 

“It should be his decision! Of all things, Dad! It’s not _your_ revenge! It has nothing to do with you!” Dean’s ears perked up. This could only be about one thing.

It had taken about a month after their abrupt exit from Bobby’s house for Sam to accept that Dean was done talking about the Jeffersons. If you ask Dean, that year was a blank slate. Nothing happened. Foster care, what foster care? Finally, Sam realized that no amount of whiny _Dean_ ’s and no matter how strong the puppy eyes, Dean’s mind was a steel trap. Dad was so happy to have the strong son he’d had before his run-in with the werewolf that he too decided to never bring up that year again. 

Finally it had been back to normal for the Winchesters, at least for a little while. Hell, Sam even been able to run tech for _Our Town_ that same semester in a school in the outskirts of Michigan. Apparently it’s a popular show to put on; who knew?

However, when Sam realized a 4.0 GPA was more likely to get him away from his sorry excuse for a family, he’d nixed the extracurriculars and focused solely on his studies. That suited John just fine. After that he was able to utilize his largest son more for hunts. Dean’s a little bitter about how much bulk Sam had managed to put on. It’s not natural to be smaller than your younger brother. It’s just not. 

Plus, ever since they started having to buy Sammy’s clothes at the Big and Tall store, his incessant whining and angst turned from somewhat annoying to a downright pain in the ass. 

Still, the knowledge that Sam was probably going to leave the moment he hit 18 stung like hell. He’d never admit it to John, but he was secretly happy that Sammy was going to make something more of himself. Dean knew how his story was going to end and he didn’t want the same for his brother. 

Anyway, now that Dean’s interests had been peaked, he took a deep breath and prepared to join his father in the fray.

“What should I get to decide for myself?” He asked, entering the small room.

“Nothing, boy. I’m going on a hunt. Alone.”

Dean was about to nod his ascent. He was happy he’d been wrong about what this was about and John hunting on his own was nothing out of the ordinary, but Sam wasn’t having it.

“The hunt’s in Arkansas, Dean. Paris, Arkansas.” Dean’s heart dropped in his chest and he let out a tsk sound. It was not a whimper. He’d swear by that.

“Dad, no.”

“It’s not what you think, Dean.”

“Is that right?” A little Kansas drawl leaks out when Dean gets upset. “So you’re not going to be making a little visit to my friends Rick and Mary while you’re there?”

“Dean-“

“No, Dad. We don’t hunt humans! You taught us that.”

“Dammit, I’m not gonna kill them!”

“You’re not gonna do anything to them! None of us are!”

“What??” Sam looked stunned!

“What, Sam? I thought you were with me on this?”

“No! I just thought you’d be pissed he was going without us!”

“Dammit, sit down! Both of you!” He shouted. Dean was surprised when both John and Sam took seats next to each other on the bed. 

“I don’t know what you two are playing at, but this happened to me. And I don’t want this.”

“So something did happen? God, Dean, after two years I’d started to think I’d gone crazy,” Sam said with venom, rolling his eyes.

“Can it, Sammy! It’s my turn to talk.” But all of a sudden he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He wasn’t really ever the one in charge, John was. And Sam was the one with the mouth. Dean’s mouth was really best for getting women into bed… amongst other bed related activities. 

John spared him. “Dean, I thought if I could tell you I’d paid them a visit, you’d have some closure. You could move past it.”

Dean gave him and incredulous look. “So, what then? You were gonna beat a woman to a pulp?”

John avoids his gaze so Dean continues. “Jesus Christ! I don’t need closure. I’m fine. I don’t think about it anymore. I have you, I have hunting, I’ve gotten past this. Please, can’t you two?”

Things are quiet for a while when Sam speaks up. “You still have nightmares sometimes. I hear you,” he says softly.

“Yea Sammy, I do. And I’m sorry you hear them. But that’s life. I don’t hear Mary’s voice in my head anymore, though. Or get nervous in the dark. Well, I’m nervous a lot in the dark but that’s more creature related.” He knows that won’t lighten the mood any.

Sammy’s not done though. “Don’t you want to make sure they can’t do that to anyone else, though? It wasn’t _you_ , Dean. They were sick. They got off on having that power over you.”

“What, you don’t think I’m special?” Dean winks, but Sam doesn’t relax so he keeps going, worried about what he’s about to reveal. “They can’t.”

When neither other Winchester seems to pick up on what he’s saying, he carries on. “They can’t foster anymore.”

“What do you mean, son? What’d you do?” John looks at his eldest, unsure of what’s coming next. 

“Well… Uh…” Dean coughs; things were about to get uncomfortable. He takes a seat in front of his mini-audience and begins again. “Well… a month or so before you called, I found an old polaroid camera when I was stuck in the basement. Then after you called me I had some time to kill before Sam got home and we had to take off to meet you. So I grabbed the camera and took some pictures.”

His father and brother looked confused, so he knew he had to get specific. 

“I took some in my underwear… and some not.” Sam and John looked so alike with their jaws hanging three feet below their mouths that Dean laughed. “Yea… uh… I was pretty skinny at the time and only just 17 by a few months. I looked probably more like 15 in the pictures. I hid them all over the house and the basement. I even set up a little studio looking thing in the cellar, knowing Rick and Mary never went down there.”

“Once me and Sammy left the town behind us and found a Gas-N’-Sip, I put an anonymous call into the police. A few days later I called up and they had ransacked the place. They found everything. Uh… but I was technically above the age of consent and they both swore up and down that they hadn’t taken the pictures… plus there was the fact that me and Sammy had bailed. Though, they probably think that was the reason… Either way, they couldn’t pin anything on them for jail time, but they got a fine and are banned from ever fostering again. Not to mention they’re not allowed within 100 yards of a school. They’re own store is inside that radius so they had to sell for cheap. Basically, I messed them up pretty bad without any sort of violence. Who’d of thunk it?”

Everything was quiet for what felt like 20 minutes until Sam yelled “OH MY GOD!” then started laughing hysterically. John joined in and all of a sudden no Winchester could breath. They all came too with pain in their chests and hearty tears of laughter streaming from their eyes.

“That’s my boy!” John managed to get out. Dean knew once John thought on it, he wouldn't be thrilled about what Dean had had to do, but for now the idea was so ridiculous, and smart, that it was funny. 

“So can we all agree that’s enough?” Dean hoped to God they were satisfied. “And I mean, bruises heal, the stigma of pedophilia is forever.” 

He smiled his signature toothy grin and John and Sammy laughed some more. “Yea, Dean. That’s enough.”


End file.
